Delusional Illusions
by Ramen God
Summary: Mukuro will destroy the shinobi world, and for the sake of that cause, he will even join up with Team Taka. What are these inexplicable memories that he can't remember, then, and why is that blond boy so achingly familiar?


_A/N: Angst. This whole thing is angst and over-dramatic scenes. In my defense, that's what __**Verita Chiara**__ requested, so I hope I delivered. Also, I may or may not have warped Naruto canon. You have been warned. Still, enjoy! (I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or Naruto.)_

**Delusional Illusions**

Mukuro dreamed. Of mist and of lies, of 'comrades' and of _warmth_. He dreamed and dreamed until at last… he woke up.

He woke up to a world of blood and of death, of betrayal and of loss. To a world where he was always, always alone.

But it was because he stood alone that he was strong. Or perhaps it was because he was strong, that he was alone? Regardless, where his so-called "peers" (never his comrades—never his equals) faltered and balked at the thought of a "ninja's duty", Mukuro reveled and delighted in the destruction.

He cared nothing for his "Kiri pride", for being a ninja that would aid "his" village. All he needed was to become stronger. Strong enough to leave behind this disgusting world, filled with such rotten, repulsive people.

Strong enough to destroy it.

This hatred was so strangely familiar to him, so peculiarly nostalgic, as if he had felt it long, long before. It was as if it had been lying in a well deep within him, simply waiting for Mukuro to finally tap into it.

And he was all too willing to do just that.

"Prodigy," they all whispered. "A genius whose knowledge of the art of genjutsu is unmatched. He will become undefeatable one day."

"Demon," they said with the same breath. "A monster, too strong, shouldn't exist, unnatural—_cursed_."

Mukuro ignored it all, using his hatred of this treacherous place to fuel his genjutsu instead, biding his time until he could finally leave it all behind.

At eight years old, he got the chance he had been waiting for. He annihilated his entire Academy class in tribute of the legendary "Final Exam" of years past—the test that had earned Kiri its name of "Bloody Mist"—one last act of irony before he left. While the village was still reeling from the aftermath, he fled.

And so he lived, traveling from place to place, concealing and changing his appearance with genjutsu so as not to be recognized. The only thing he could never manage to change was his crimson right eye, boldly emblazoned with ever-changing numbers. Mukuro covered it up instead with a simple black eye patch.

Whenever he looked into the mirror in his original, genjutsu-less form, slender and small and young, blue hair spiked in his unique style, one eye covered, something in his chest ached. "_Chrome_," he heard in his dreams, "_Nagi_."

But he had never heard of either name before, so he continued on in his meaningless trek, slaughtering any ninja he happened to come across. 'I must destroy the shinobi world,' was all he thought, an endless mantra repeated over and over, like a broken record that knew no other phrase. 'I _must_.'

Once, Kirigakure sent a member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist after him, a man wielding twin swords of lightning. Mukuro's strange abilities, powers he'd had since birth—each different as his red eye shifted from numbers one to six and back—were all ineffectual against the man. The swordsman was simply too strong, even for he, who had once been hailed as an once-in-a-lifetime prodigy.

Exhausted and devoid of chakra after a long battle, Mukuro lay on the ground, watching the sword heading towards him at last, about to finish him off. The only thought that flashed through his mind was, 'Is this the end?'

'_No_,' he decided. He would not—could not—die yet. In the instant before death, the member of the Seven Swordsmen unguarded and sure of his absolute victory, indigo flames blazed out of him, charring and killing the man in front of him instantly.

Weak from both the previous fight and from the use of the strange fire, Mukuro painstakingly dragged himself to the nearby river, looking down into the reflective waters. He ripped away the black eye patch, gingerly touching the skin around his right eye. The kanji for seven was bold black against the fiery red.

"Flames," he breathed. It felt… right. "_Flames_."

But at the same time, something was wrong. A memory tugged at his heart, of a warm voice crying, "_Flames should be used to protect!"_ After a moment's consideration, though, Mukuro ignored it as easily as he had disregarded all the previous accusations against him.

What had he ever had to protect? Nothing. He was alone, after all.

Years passed. Mukuro grew ever stronger, continuing onwards in his fruitless mission to destroy the shinobi world.

He was fairly well known now, considered a S-rank missing-nin. He despised the label though—he was not, and never had been, a ninja. (And if he had been, he would definitely have been a SS-rank at the very least, thank you very much.)

More and more were sent after him—more and more perished by his hands. It would've been a simple matter to conceal his appearance, but he left some features the same so he was recognizable enough for the bounty hunters and hunter-nin to be able to find him. He had no need to run anymore, after all—every one of them was laughably weak, especially with the strange fire he had unlocked.

It was rare to come across an opponent who could manage to make him use his flames, which he had mastered over the years. When he was fifteen—seven years after his "defection"—he met one such person.

A young man with blood red eyes (so similar to Mukuro's own right eye), black-haired and pale-skinned, with the same bitter hatred as his own shining bright in his eyes. He had approached him, and, without warning, engaged in a brutal fight with Mukuro.

Later, after an all-out battle of vicious techniques and destruction, made more difficult by the fact that the man's eyes could see through his genjutsu—but not the illusions made by his flames—the young man stood before him, clearly ragged and tired but still standing tall with pride.

"Come with me," the boy (still a child, the same age as Mukuro and yet somehow feeling so much younger) had said to him, voice filled with conviction. "Help me destroy Konoha."

Mukuro had tilted his head, exhausted but not broken—never broken—and, chuckling, said, "Kufufu, but that's not what you really want, is it, skylark-kun?"

The black-haired boy had frozen, anger and confusion clear in his face. "What do you mean?" he had asked, guarded and wary.

But Mukuro could not explain even if he had wished to. The words themselves, oh yes, that was simple—it was clear that the red-eyed boy didn't _truly_ want to destroy the Village Hidden in the Leaves, no matter what he tried to make himself believe as much. But the title 'skylark' that had slipped so easily and comfortably out of his mouth? Where could that have come from?

Mukuro had shaken it off, plastering on his signature smile instead, quickly agreeing to the proposal to avoid further questioning. And why wouldn't he? It suited his purposes perfectly, after all. If he could manage to destroy one of the Five Great Shinobi Villages, he would be far closer to his ultimate goal.

And thus, he went along with this farce of a team, with the dark pink-haired girl, Karin, (who strangely enough, vaguely sparked memories of explosions and yelling), the white-haired boy—Suigetsu—who looked at him strangely when he thought Mukuro wasn't looking, and the large orange-haired boy named Jugo who was normally too nervous to make Mukuro take notice of him, and too psychotic in his cursed seal state.

He even let the red-eyed boy—Sasuke, he later discovered—parade around, thinking himself the leader, obeying his "orders" and following the black-haired boy's every whim and fancy. For a while, he continued on like this, killing and destroying like normal, only in the name of "their" team, Team Taka, instead.

Then, one day, when Sasuke and Mukuro were alone, the other members gone on various missions, they met _him_. Another boy—just a boy—with golden hair brighter than sunlight and eyes bluer than the sky, whiskers prominent on tanned cheeks.

"I'll definitely bring you back, Sasuke!" the blond boy had shouted, so sure and determined.

"Never, Naruto," Sasuke had replied as coldly as ever, but Mukuro had caught those scarlet eyes softening infinitesimally. So this Naruto was important to him, huh?

Mukuro turned away from the blond boy—the obvious leader of the small group here to confront them—scanning the small group cloaked in white before him in boredom. He was confident that he alone was more than enough to take them all on without so much as breaking a sweat.

He paused, however, at the sight of a boy baring animal fangs at him, red tattoos bright on the boy's cheeks, a large white dog at his side. This… was familiar as well, though he could not explain how so. He only knew that when he looked at the boy, he remembered excited 'pyons' and animalistic behavior. 'Comrades,' his mind whispered. '_Ken_.'

That was impossible, though. Mukuro had no comrades. Team Taka was nothing but a tool to him (he knew they thought the same vice versa, and he wondered at their stupidity), and he had never been with anyone before them. Still, the irritating sense niggled at him insistently.

Frowning now, his carefree mood killed, he surveyed the crowd once more, wondering if any of them would give that same strange sense of familiarity. There was a black-haired boy with matching black eyes—vaguely similar to Sasuke's appearance, actually—with a perfectly emotionless face that sparked a memory as well, though it was much fainter. After a pause, a voice whispered, "_Chikusa…_" in his mind.

By this point, Mukuro was feeling severely annoyed. He turned his multi-colored gaze onto Sasuke (he had stopped wearing the eye patch not long after he joined Team Taka), saying, "We should go, Sasuke." After all, he couldn't offend the little prince by ordering him, could he? So he had to _suggest_ it, instead. Even such a tiny manipulation made a noticeable difference.

Sure enough, Sasuke nodded sharply in reply. As they turned to leave, though, Mukuro gathering his mist to shield their retreat and both preparing to apply genjutsu masking their chakra and scent, the blond boy shouted after him.

"I'll bring you back to Konoha, Sasuke! That's a promise! Because you're my friend!" The voice was so determined, burning with such _resolve_—the combination of the words and the tone struck something indescribable within Mukuro, and he stumbled, nearly falling off the tree branch, head aching with a sudden sharp pain.

"Mukuro?" Sasuke asked, turning to him even as they moved through the trees, confused at the completely out of character movement. Mukuro was never anything but perfectly graceful.

After a moment of strained silence, Mukuro lifted his head, smirking through the throbbing pain, "Kufufu, it's nothing."

Satisfied, Sasuke turned around, continuing forward through the forest, clearly expecting Mukuro to follow.

Mukuro trailed after, silent and contemplative. What in the seven hells was that? Another one of those damnable memories, occurring more and more frequently in recent times, welled up from within him.

_"Don't worry, Mukuro-san. I'll definitely get you out of there, so just wait for me. It's a promise. Because I'm your friend!" _

Though the blond boy's—Naruto's—voice was far louder and outwardly determined as compared to the memory's calmer and quieter tone, both voices practically _blazed_ with a fiery, unmatched resolve.

Mukuro pressed a long-fingered, gloved hand to his chest, confused. What was this feeling? The odd imprint-memories he had experienced before had never prompted any emotions like this strangely warm aching.

He wasn't sure if he liked it, either.

Some time had passed—Team Taka had gone on a mission from an orange-masked man that every instinct in his body screamed not to trust in order to capture the Eight Tails for said man's organization (which, if he wasn't mistaken, had the goal of _conquering the world_).

Mukuro gave some token assistance, not bothering to show his actual abilities. He could already tell that this man, Killer Bee, was far too troublesome to be able to take out at this point and time. Also, while he was willing enough to pretend to show loyalty to Sasuke, it was beginning to wear on his nerves a little.

Mukuro was loyal to no one but himself.

That was why, when Sasuke 'took down' the Jinchuuriki, Mukuro chose not to reveal the fact that the body was actually just Killer Bee's clone, made from one of the Hachibi's tails. Instead, he just discretely sent an owl summon after the actual Killer Bee—for future purposes, as the man _was_ one of the ninja he would eventually have to kill—and followed along after the rest of Team Taka to go turn the fake corpse in to the masked man.

When the dangerous man informed the rest of Team Taka that they had only captured a clone, Mukuro faked his surprise perfectly with a lifetime's worth of experience, never once giving off a hint that he'd known all along. It wasn't his business, after all—what did he care?

For a while, the self-proclaimed "leader" of the team raged, still insecure enough to doubt himself even subconsciously. Mukuro just watched while Karin fluttered over the dark-haired boy, soothing his hurt ego, that same twisted smile still on his face the whole time. If he was right, their next mission would finally get interesting.

Sure enough, not even a day later, Team Taka was called in by the orange-masked man. "Danzo was one of the perpetrator's of the Uchiha Massacre," he told Sasuke.

It was an obvious manipulation, and while Mukuro suspected that even Sasuke saw through it, the black-haired boy was still willing to kill the man. "For my brother," Sasuke claimed.

Mukuro was willing to get involved for this particular fight. Danzo was one of the pillars of Konoha, after all, and by assassinating the man, he would get closer to toppling one of the strongest ninja villages. Plus, their little king would get to feel vindicated and would stop being so much of an angsty brat. It was two birds with one stone.

Team Taka ended up following a fascinating and rather disturbing… white _thing_… to their supposed destination. Mukuro was fairly sure it was probably a he, especially as it _was _somewhat human-shaped, but as it had no identifying features, he couldn't really be sure. Regardless, it was rather disturbing in appearance.

They were led to the Land of Iron—a place Mukuro had actually visited before (then again, by this point, there weren't many places he _hadn't_ visited)—to attack the Five Kage Summit. Danzo had ascended to Hokage status, it seemed, which only inflated the little princeling's sense of hatred even more. It was rather delightfully entertaining to watch, actually.

In the meeting building itself, though, Team Taka ran into unexpected issues. They confronted a crowd of armored men, so weak that Mukuro instantly disregarded them, a large dark-skinned man rather similar to a certain Jinchuuriki—the Raikage—or so he assumed, and a red-haired man who could control sand.

_ "Enma_," Mukuro whispered without even realizing it, staring at the man with red hair, an indistinct image of a man much less confident, with constant bandages, but with the same bright red hair and affinity for earth, superimposed over the man he actually saw. After a moment of disorientation, the image disappeared, leaving only the visage of the man before him, who he now realized was the Kazekage, behind.

The battle between them was a constant blur, Mukuro defending himself against sand and wild, lightning filled punches and counter-attacking just as ferociously. Out of the edge of his vision, he saw both Suigetsu and Jugo defeated before the dark-skinned man turned his full rage on him.

Mukuro danced out of the way effortlessly, summoning illusions and genjutsu simultaneously, constantly switching in between each of his seven skills. After a few minutes, the dark-skinned man attacking him finally got aggravated and switched his attention to Sasuke.

Sasuke, who was being slowly cornered and surrounded by the Kazekage's sand, when barraged by the Raikage's attack as well, summoned up a purple shield that Mukuro recognized from his own fight, though he'd never particularly bothered to learn the name. He, unlike most shinobi, it seemed, wasn't concerned whatsoever with flashy names.

Mukuro himself was shielded with layer upon layer of illusions and genjutsu, completely unnoticeable by this point. As an afterthought, he shielded Karin as well. The girl could be useful later, he supposed, and it wasn't like it took extra effort for him.

By this point, Mukuro was actually getting rather bored. He leaned against a pillar, yawning, as the red-haired man began an unnecessarily long and inspirational speech that he promptly tuned out. He couldn't understand most of what they were talking about anyway, as it apparently had to do with their dear little leader's angsty past.

He was staring off into space contemplating plans to dominate the world—always an entertaining pastime—when Sasuke's voice snapped him out of his daydreams. "Mukuro! Karin! Take me to Danzo!"

"Of course, little lordling," Mukuro said scornfully in reply, unveiling them both with a mocking flourish. "Whatever you command."

"Sasuke-kun! He's that way!" Karin pointed out instantly and eagerly, gesturing down a corridor.

The black-haired boy didn't so much as hesitate, leaping down the hall instantly. "Take Karin, Mukuro," he ordered, leaving his teammates behind.

Mukuro looked at the pink-haired girl beside him in disgust. "…Can I refuse?"

"I can get there myself!" Karin huffed, racing down the corridor after Sasuke, Mukuro trailing behind. She turned around to look at Mukuro, sticking out her tongue childishly—

Then Mukuro swiped over her head with his trident, killing a samurai who was in front of her, about to slice the girl down. "Whatever you say, kufufufu."

The pink-haired girl scowled, focusing forward with a new intensity. The two arrived just in time to see the entire corridor get sealed off with lava, their black-haired "leader" stuck behind the flaming wall. Mukuro stared, contemplating what to do. Unfortunately, he didn't really think that his genjutsu or his illusions would help in this case. There was nothing else to do but wait, so that's what he did, leaning against a wall and getting comfortable.

"What are you doing? We have to help Sasuke-kun!" the annoying girl shrieked, reaching previously unknown decibels.

Mukuro winced, frowning. A memory rose up, "_We have to save Juudaime!" _

Shaking off the recollection, he was about to reply when a hole ripped itself open in front of him and the banshee-girl. Heterochromatic eyes narrowing, he re-summoned his trident into hand, ready to fight.

He didn't relax when he saw it was the orange-masked man that appeared, carrying a limp and injured Sasuke over his shoulder. "Come," the man ordered coldly, single red eye gleaming through the mask.

"Oya, come where?" Mukuro asked in return, face still smiling but eyes equally frosty and suspicious.

"To somewhere safe," was all the masked man said. Karin had followed instantly when she had seen Sasuke, and after a moment of indecision, Mukuro did the same. He was sure enough in his skills that he knew he could escape when needed.

After a sickening sensation rather similar to being squeezed through a tube and then spun around multiple times, they were taken to some sort of strange tower-filled limbo, Mukuro feeling unusually tense and wary. With a technique like this, there was no telling what the masked man could do. He felt his flames, warm under his skin, ready to be called on at any time, reassuring and relaxing him.

The orange-masked man dropped Sasuke unceremoniously onto the pillar they had landed on, pointing one gloved hand at Karin. "Heal him," the man ordered.

Mukuro ignored the pink-haired girl as she ran to the unconscious boy, using her… _interesting_… healing methods to close up Sasuke's wounds, choosing instead to remain focused on the masked man, who was clearly the threat.

"Who exactly are you?" he asked, eyes narrowed and trident gripped tightly in leather gloved-hands.

The man did not reply to his question, instead giving him orders as well. "When Sasuke wakes up, have Karin take him to Danzo. You will be his back-up."

Mukuro smiled, baring his teeth. It wasn't a particularly nice expression. "Oya oya, I will, now will I?"

"You will," the man replied, surety clear in every word. "You follow Sasuke, do you not?"

His eyes widened in surprise, then his shoulders began shaking nigh imperceptibly with suppressed laughter. "Kufufufu…. You can't be serious. You thought I actually _followed_ him?" His eyes abruptly turned cold, voice following. "I follow _no one_."

_"I will not follow you, Vongola. I do not serve anyone."_

"But you will obey him for the sake of your goal, won't you?" was all the orange-masked man said in reply, still with that unshakable certainty.

Mukuro paused in consideration, that same twisted smile on his face never wavering. "I will do whatever I want, whenever I want. For now, I will… _follow_… that little brat, but rest assured—I do not serve him."

The masked man simply turned away, voice uncaring and disinterested. "That is enough, for now."

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement, then," Mukuro said, perfectly insincerely. The man gave no sign of hearing his words, instead disappearing into thin air, leaving a few last words behind to Karin, who was still kneeling at Sasuke's side.

"When he is fully recovered, I will return."

Sighing, Mukuro settled back into a conjured armchair for another long wait.

Not even ten hours later, Mukuro was still just as bored as ever—albeit in quite a different situation. The two Anbu guarding Danzo were simple enough to take care of—a few subtle genjutsu, not designed to take the men out of action, but rather to draw attention, some easily dispelled and cancelled jutsu, then an abrupt lethal onslaught of flames, his most powerful genjutsu, and the strongest illusions in his arsenal, and, like magic—two dead bodies. No trouble whatsoever.

Now, he was watching Sasuke fight the old man—Danzo—who was, surprisingly enough, putting up quite a good fight for one of his age. Mukuro _could_ have helped, he supposed, but he really didn't want to deal with the tantrum that his little 'boss' would give for interfering with his revenge. Assuming the boy survived, of course. At this point in time, it really could go either way.

Leaning on his trident, still conjured and freshly bloody, he watched in renewed interest as Sasuke "killed" Danzo for the third time—but the old man still wasn't dead.

"What an interesting technique," he said aloud, watching as the implanted red eyes, swirling and rather sickening actually, closed one after another.

"What are you doing? Go help him!" Karin shrieked into his ear.

"Kufufu… I don't want to," was Mukuro's belligerent reply. "It's not like the little lord needs my help anyway, isn't that right?" He raised his voice slightly near the end, knowing it was more than enough for Sasuke to hear.

The black-haired boy only snarled, pushing himself even further, sending sweeping strokes with his long blade towards Danzo, lightning sparking off the weapon every now and then.

Mukuro had looked away for a few minutes, and then there was a sudden scream of rage and pain. Glancing back quickly, he saw Danzo staggering, the pasty white-skinned Sharingan-inlaid arm missing, and the old man himself weak and covered in wounds.

"Sasuke-kun! I knew you would win!" Karin called out eagerly, running recklessly forward to go to Sasuke. The boy himself was just as injured, and Karin quickly healed his wounds, fluttering nearby like a particularly loud insect. "Sas—!"

She was snatched up by Danzo, who then leapt back to a safer distance from Sasuke. A kunai was held close against her neck, a clear threat.

"Sasuke-kun! Help me!" she called out, fear in her pink eyes clear even behind her glasses.

Sasuke stood slowly, eyes shadowed, the light of a Chidori beginning to illuminate his hand. Karin smiled in relief, sure she was going to be saved—but Mukuro saw the utter lack of regard for the pink-haired girl in Sasuke's posture.

So quickly it was hard for even him to catch, Sasuke released a devastating spear of lightning, which stabbed both Danzo and Karin completely through the chest. Danzo crumpled, clearly dead at last, while Karin, who had managed to avoid a vital blow, staggered forward, before collapsing.

"S-Sasuke… W-why?" she whispered, betrayal in her voice.

"If you could be captured so easily, I don't need you anymore," was the black-haired boy's calm response. Then, clearly dismissing her, he turned to Mukuro. "Let's go."

Suddenly, that same black vortex came out of nowhere and the orange-masked man appeared. "Well done, Sasuke." The man looked down at Karin, coldly suggesting, "If you don't need her anymore, you should finish her off. She knows too much."

Nodding in agreement, Sasuke turned to Karin, stepping forward with his sword unsheathed. Karin looked up at him, tears in her eyes, watching him get ever closer…

"Wait! Sasuke!" a new voice called out. Mukuro turned along with Sasuke to look at the lighter pink-haired girl who had arrived—or more specifically, at the Konoha forehead protector proudly displayed in her hair.

"Sakura… What are you doing here?" the Uchiha asked.

"Let me come with you, Sasuke! I want to be with you no matter what!" the girl—Sakura—insisted passionately.

Tuning out the speech, Mukuro stepped casually over to Karin. "Oya oya, look at what a state you're in… You should've known all along that he never cared for you, kufufu…"

She shook her head almost unnoticeably, looking up at him with confusion. "W-why?" she asked weakly. "Why… do y-you f-follow him… You d-don't care…"

"I don't," he agreed. "But it's convenient, that's all. I don't need anyone."

"Y-your chakra… So empty… And yet also s-so sad…" she whispered softly, almost to herself.

Mukuro's eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth to question her about the enigmatic words. What did she mean?

He cut himself off at the sight of the injured girl's eyes widening as she looked behind him, whispering, "W-watch out!"

Swiveling easily, he jumped to one side to watch closely as Sakura approached the injured girl, clearly ready to kill—and more importantly, behind her, Sasuke preparing to end the girl's life with a lightning-filled hand.

"Sakura, move!" a new voice suddenly called out—and why were there so many dramatic interruptions today?—a silver-haired, partially masked ninja appearing in time to push the pink-haired girl out of the way and counter Sasuke's attack.

"Kakashi-sensei!" the girl cried out, as she quickly regained her balance, skidding on water a few feet away.

"Take Karin to safety and heal her wounds enough to talk. Then come back and take care of Rokudo," the newcomer ordered, pulling up his headband to reveal a single Sharingan. "I'll take care of Sasuke."

"Who's going to 'take care' of me?" Mukuro muttered to himself, feeling rather offended. Twirling his trident once, he shunshined down to Sasuke, standing partially behind the black-haired boy. "Friends of yours?"

"They're enemies," Sasuke growled out, Sharingan activated. "Go finish off Karin and Sakura, then come back."

Mukuro's eyebrow twitched once—he was really getting annoyed of all of these 'orders'—but he followed after the two pink-haired girls anyway. He didn't particularly feel the need to finish them off, per se, but he did want to question Karin.

Silently, he approached the girls from where they were hiding, cloaked in illusions to the point of a complete lack of presence.

"…he's changed," he arrived in time to hear Karin say, sorrow thick in the girl's voice. "He's not who you think he is anymore."

Mukuro stood and watched as the two shinobi had their touching bonding moment, feeling rather exasperated. What to do, what to do…? He could just kill Sakura first, question Karin, then kill her too... But that would be frustratingly close to what the little prince had ordered, and he wasn't quite feeling charitable enough for that.

So instead, he waited until Sakura had stood up to rush back into battle, disregarding Karin's warnings, before approaching the fallen dark pink-haired girl, materializing out of the mist that he himself had conjured. "Kufufu… I don't suppose you're willing to explain?"

Karin instantly seemed to know what he was talking about. She looked up at him through her glasses, a deep sorrow and regret in her eyes. "Your chakra… is filled with sorrow. It feels so cold and _empty_… What is it that you've lost? "

Mukuro's grip on his trident tightened for an instant, before he let his hand loosen, the trident dissolving away. "Kufufu, talking nonsense now? How ridiculous." He turned away, losing interest quickly. It was just 'intuition' and hunches then—she knew nothing of importance.

"M-Mukuro! Don't… Don't follow him anymore! He'll betray you as well for his revenge!" Karin called out, desperation in her voice.

He laughed, glancing back at her. "Kufufu… Not if I betray him first." With that, he left to return to the battle.

Mukuro arrived at a standstill. The silver-haired newcomer stood in front of Sasuke, too injured to attack anymore, while Sasuke was beginning to slowly approach. Behind Sasuke, he saw Sakura, crouched on the bottom of a bridge with a kunai clutched in hand.

He didn't hesitate when the pink-haired girl lunged forward—in one fluid movement, he stabbed her through the chest, spraying blood through the air. Landing smoothly a few feet away, he casually twirled his trident, just in time to see the (_too familiar_) blond boy—Naruto, if he remembered correctly—from what felt like so long ago catch the pink-haired girl.

"Y-you… _You bastard_!" Naruto screamed, rage in his eyes. "How dare you!"

The silver-haired man rushed to the blond boy's side, murmuring reassuringly, "Hold on, Sakura-chan. You'll be fine…"

"Sakura…" Sasuke stared from a distance, pale hands limp at his side, looking slightly paler than normal.

"Is there a problem?" Mukuro asked, smirking. "I was simply following _orders_."

The black-haired boy shook his head, regaining his composure. "I was going to kill her anyway," he retorted—but Mukuro caught a slight tremble in his hands.

Mukuro shunshined away abruptly, leaving an illusion clone behind just in time for it to be destroyed by a barrage of kunai. Letting himself reappear, he chuckled at the blond boy's enraged face. "Kufufu… So righteous and _heroic_…"

"Shut up!" The boy darted forward, throwing a punch straight at his face.

Mukuro easily avoided it, only to turn and duck another replica's kick. "Clones? Why don't I make it more _fair_ then?" With a wave of his hand, illusions sprang up around him. For someone as simple-minded as the blond boy seemed to be, it should be easy to fool him into believing they were solid.

Naruto screamed, furious, even as he and his illusions were bombarded under a series of unceasing attacks, "If I don't defeat you… _how could I become Hokage ?_"

Mismatched eyes widened as Mukuro suddenly staggered, bringing a hand up to his head. _"If I don't defeat you, how can I die in peace?" _The clones dissolved as his concentration was lost. All he could see in front of him was _orange eyes, filled with a fiery resolve_ and behind that, blue eyes burning with the same determination.

He barely avoided the next attack, a pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe. "Y-you…"

The blond boy continued on, relentless. "I won't forgive you!"

Words came out of his mouth, unbidden. "Why? Why do you fight? You're a _ninja_-!"

"I fight to protect my friends!" Naruto snapped, creating another clone in a burst of smoke.

_"I will fight to stop my friends from getting hurt!" _

Mukuro thought he saw a gleam of cerulean blue energy but he couldn't be certain. His vision was swimming—bursts of brilliant orange flame, an intricately engraved ring—and he couldn't _breathe_, a terrible aching throbbing in his chest.

As if through a dream, he dimly heard himself say, "_Tell me, Vongola… What is your resolve?" _

"I will never let my comrades get hurt!" Mukuro heard just as faintly, through, _"My pride—my resolve—is my comrades, my friends!" _

The aching in his heart reached a crescendo, and Mukuro nearly screamed from the pain—and then there was a sudden numbness. Through a haze, he glanced down, distantly noting the hole in his chest, wisps of blue energy dissipating.

Looking up, he met azure eyes that gleamed with a curious mix of resolve and remorse for a second of sudden lucidity—and then his vision slowly faded to black, the faint imprints of beautiful orange flames seared into the back of his eyes.

And then he was falling, a curious warmth still in his body and he breathed out—

"_Tsunayoshi…"_

_A/N: Yes, I killed off Mukuro a lá Sasuke-with-Chidori-in-the-Valley-of-the-End-style. (Actually, I just realized I don't know if a Rasengan could completely pierce through someone's chest…? And I also don't know if Sharingan is supposed to be capitalized everywhere…) This was fun to write all the way up until I got to the Five Kage Summit part and then I was realized I forgot everything that had happened. SO MUCH RESEARCH. I may or may not have ended up rushing it near the end… _

_Yes, I realize that there are probably major plot holes. Yes, I realize I have no idea how to characterize Mukuro to capture all the Mukuro-ness. Yes, its super over-the-top dramatic and angsty(it's so much fun to write like that though, and there _was_ a request for angst). Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this oneshot (especially __**Verita Chiara**__, considering it was her prompt). I promise I'll edit it eventually, so I hope you all can provide critique so I can make it better. I might be able to explain some of the background/reasoning behind some events, but that would take way, way too long, so if you would like to know, please PM me or review instead. _

_I might be posting up omakes/side stories from other people's point of views eventually (if I can find the inspiration). Thank you all for reading, and once more, I hope you enjoyed it!_


End file.
